


winter must be cold (for those with no warm memories)

by aliveanddrunkonsunlight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bridget Jones' Diary AU, Camp Counselor AU, F/M, Principal/Coach AU, Real estate au, Sleepless in Seattle AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21660586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliveanddrunkonsunlight/pseuds/aliveanddrunkonsunlight
Summary: Prompts for the Advent calendar 2019When she looks back at him, a smirk is pulling at his lips and he points upwards. She glances up to see a small sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Precisely over the spot where they’re both standing. “Oh.”
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 74
Kudos: 119





	1. Mistletoe

**Day 1 - Mistletoe**

Sansa is shrieking with delight as Pod attempts to pin the tail on the lion and Brienne is keeping an eye on Bronn, making sure he does not spike the punch as he had the previous year, when a low voice whispers in her ear. “Ms. Tarth, can I see you in my office?”

Brienne tears her gaze away from the party and follows her boss, Jaime Lannister, back to his office. “I wanted to show you those Tyrell numbers.” He tosses over his shoulder as she follows him through the halls. Part of her wants to object. _Mr. Lannister, it’s Christmas_ , but part of her is curious about how he is working through the office holiday party.

As they grow farther from the party, everyone’s raucous laughter and shouts are muffled by the executive suite. The floor to ceiling windows in his office look out over the Sunset Sea and the way his oak desk is placed, it looks as if he is steering a large ship, which he is, in his way. Golden Lion Holdings is one of the top real estate companies in Westeros, only bested by Tyrell Estates.

There is a plate of food from the party on his desk, untouched, and a half empty glass of egg nog. Brienne knows Sansa, his overqualified assistant, is responsible for both, just as she had taken the organization of the office party under her purview.

“You’re not big into the holidays, are you?” Brienne asks, as he grabs the file from his desk, stepping close as he hands it to her.

“What makes you think that?” His green eyes flash.

Brienne thinks of how everyone else in the office decorates their desks and cubicles this time of year. She keeps hers muted, only a stocking and a sedate string of white lights, but his office looks as plain and boring as ever. “Never mind. That was impudent of me. I apologize.”

“Forgiven, Tarth.” He waves her apology away, but presses his index finger onto the folder she’s holding. “The numbers.”

“Right.”

But he does not let her study them for long before speaking again. “Actually, Sansa got me a Christmas bush, but I killed it after a week. I’m not much of a green thumb. She also provided one other decoration. Can you find it, Ms. Tarth?”

Brienne looks up from the papers, her brow creased with confusion. She looks around his office, even turning behind her to see what she may have missed. “I confess I don’t see anything, sir.” When she looks back at him, a smirk is pulling at his lips and he points upwards. She glances up to see a small sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Precisely over the spot where they’re both standing. “Oh.” His gaze is still on hers and it is hard to miss the heat in his eyes. Her throat grows tight. He steps towards her. Brienne’s eyelids flutter at his hand landing tentatively at her hip. His other hand cups her face, brushing a thumb along her lower lip, causing her to sigh softly. He kisses her gently, but as she opens her mouth to his, it becomes more heated, his hands cupping her face so he can draw her closer still.

“Mr. Lannister, are you trying to seduce me?” she giggles, finally letting the file folder fall to the ground, papers fluttering, as she wraps her arms around his neck.

He growls in response. “Always Mr. Lannister this and Mr. Lannister that. I swear, Tarth, you’re trying to kill me.”

“Maybe a little bit,” she murmurs, kissing him again. They’ve not been together long. About three months. Brienne couldn’t even remember how it had happened, really. A string of late nights at the office, the celebration of the sale of a large piece of land in the Iron Islands, a little too much champagne, and Jaime offering to drive her home. They both confessed to their feelings, but neither wanted to act on them, considering their working relationship. Their resolve lasted approximately five minutes before they’d started undressing each other.

Brienne hadn’t expected it to turn into a serious thing, but it had, rather quickly. “What time is the ferry tomorrow?”

“The first one is at nine a.m. Are you coming to my place tonight? Might make things easier.” Things had gotten serious so quickly between them that Brienne is taking Jaime to Tarth over the holidays to meet her father.

“I have to swing by my place and grab a few things, call Tyrion and make sure the kids are good, but yes, I’ll be there.” His hand traces a path along her spine, Brienne shivering under his touch.

She is grateful he’s agreed to spend the holidays with her because she knew this time of year was hard on him. He’d lost his sister two years before and Jaime had taken guardianship of her two kids, Myrcella and Tommen. This year, his brother Tyrion–newly married and preparing for impending fatherhood himself–offered to take the kids for the holidays.

“Sounds good. I’m going to…” she gestures behind her, knowing her absence from the party will be noticed at some point soon.

“Okay,” he replies softly, pressing a final kiss to her cheek.

“Hey,” she spins around in the door of his office. “Did you draft that email yet?”

  
He smiles. “No, not yet, Ms. Tarth. I promise I’ll work on it tonight so you can have the final say before I send it company wide.”

She looks chastened. “You don’t have to do that. It’s your company.”

Jaime sits down at his desk and regards her with warm eyes. “I want to, Brienne.”

“Thank you,” she blushes. “I’ll see you later.” Brienne has been bugging him to make a formal announcement about their relationship. He resisted, mostly because of the implications of a boss sleeping with an employee, but he knows she’s right, knows it could look much worse if he doesn’t send an announcement and their relationship is found out in another way. But there are a few things he wants to be assured of first.

He pulls his keys from his pocket and unlocks one of his desk drawers and picks up the small black box nestled beside the Tyrell files. Glancing up at the door to make sure Brienne has not returned, he opens the box, the ring set with a triple stone–sapphire, garnet, and diamond–but still delicate and tasteful. Brienne’s father has been sick since she started at Lannister Holdings and he intends to ask Selwyn for his permission, before asking Brienne herself.

The email can wait another two weeks, at least.


	2. Snow

**Day 2 - Snow**

Her father drops her off near Riverrun, the sun glinting off the Red Fork as the sun starts to set over the Westerland mountains behind her. She shoulders her backpack and walks towards the Inn of the Kneeling Man. 

When she enters the Inn, the downstairs is packed full of her friends and fellow counselors, her chosen family. “Brienne!” A long shock of red hair flies towards her and she barely has time to put her bag down before she’s catching Sansa Stark in her arms for a long hug. It’s her fourth year as a counselor at Camp Tully. She and Sansa are counselors in the largest dorm, which houses about 30 girls. Usually a contest develops over the summer against the boys’ dorm to see who can play the best prank and who can pull off the best scare. 

The counselors of the boys’ dorm are right behind Sansa to greet her, Addam Marbrand grinning jovially and giving her a high five, and Jaime Lannister lifting her off her feet in an unexpected hug. Brienne lets out a shriek and swats at his shoulder. “Let me down!” When she does, she can’t help but notice the bulge of Jaime’s muscles through his shirt. He’s always been strong–last summer, he caught her when she fell during a tricky ropes course–but this is nearly obscene. Jaime does not need to work very hard to be considered handsome. He already looks like one of those models who oh so casually posed in their underwear on billboards twenty feet high in King’s Landing. 

“How’s KL, Tarth? Surviving it without me?” She hasn’t seen him in nearly a year, not since he graduated and moved back to Lannisport to work for his father’s company.

“Yes, it’s very lonely,” she winks at Sansa. “I’ve been pining for you.” Her teasing earns a chuckle from Jaime, before he ushers her over to the bar to get her a drink. She can feel his gaze on her, even as she takes in the room full of counselors and staff. 

When she finally looks back at him, he gives her a shy smiles. “Seriously, how is it?”

Brienne is surprised he seems so concerned. They were friends when Jaime was in King’s Landing, yes, but not particularly close ones. She often only saw him if one of their mutual friends invited them both to some outing or party. The most time they ever spend together continually is their summers at camp.

Addam appears behind Jaime then, slapping his shoulder. “Fill Brienne in on your plan,” he instructs.

Jaime outlines his very detailed plan for the summer. He’s always the best at planning activities for the kids, a task Catelyn bestowed gratefully upon him. One summer he had several instructors come and teach all the kids to sword fight. He and Brienne had ended up in a vicious battle themselves, both of them refusing to yield. 

As Westeros is entering its ninth year of summer, the majority of the kids at the camp have never experienced snow, so this year he wants to bring in a snow machine. It’s a sweet idea, but she has a lot of questions about how he’s going to make it happen. 

*

She forgets all about the snow because for the next few weeks, she’s distracted by how Jaime always seems to be around. He starts showing up in mess hall early so he can catch her after her swim, she often catches the way he’s looking at her over the fire as they each help kids roast marshmallows, and the two of them end up having the same Saturday off, so Jaime asks if she wants to go into Oldstones with him. The two of them take a long walk around the ruins until the sun starts to set, Jaime glowing and golden, and looking at her that way again. “What?” she asks, unable to ignore it any longer. 

He shakes his head, dropping his gaze. 

“Jaime,” she pleads. “Something’s on your mind.” 

“This is the only thing I’ve looked forward to all year.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I hate working for my father. I wish I’d stayed in King’s Landing.” 

“I’m sorry. I really am. But hey,” she reaches for him, her hand landing on his arm. “You’ll figure it out. Let me know if I can do anything.” 

“You listening is a start.” He gives her a weak smile and then wraps his arms around her, drawing her in for a hug. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” She murmurs, hoping he can’t feel how her heart is pounding against his chest.

*

The next morning, she wakes up and glances out the window. The yard between her window and the boys’ dorm has been covered with snow. “Holy shit,” she mumbles, as she pulls on clothes and hurries outside. She nearly collides with Jaime who is leaning up against one of the porch rails, arms crossed, a smirk on his face. 

“You didn’t believe me.”

“I believed you. I just didn’t think…” She blinks, certain the snow on the grass is some sort of mirage. “It would look so real.” 

“Come on,” he takes her hand and pulls her off the porch right into a deep bank of snow. 

She shrieks because it’s cold. Jaime is already wadding up a ball of it in his hand. “Oh no!” she shouts, trying to hide, but he catches her easily and stuffs the snowball down her shirt. “You play so dirty!” she yells as Jaime runs away, laughing. She takes her time, building up her arsenal, before carrying out her counter-attack. She has three snowballs and when she rounds the building to find Jaime crouched close to the ground, his back to her, it’s all she can do not to let out an evil cackle. Instead she sneaks up behind him and tugs at his shirt collar, stuffing the three snowballs down the back of his t-shirt. Jaime dances around, shouting, and shaking his shirt as he desperately tries to get the snow out. 

By now, the kids are waking up and wandering out onto the porch, wide-eyed. Some of them have already pulled on their boots and are playing their own games or building small statues out of the snow. 

“You’re dead meat, Tarth,” Jaime threatens, his eyes bright. She tries to slip away from him, but he manages to hook an arm around her waist and then the two of them are flying through the air, Jaime lands on his back and Brienne on his chest and he lets out a long ooof of air.

“Are you okay?” she asks worriedly. 

There’s a glassy look in his eyes and she recognizes it as someone who just got the wind knocked out of them. He nods, but can’t speak, and a moment later, he’s wheezing, and then finally, laughter bubbles out of his chest. “I scared you.” 

“Yeah, because I thought I’d hurt you!” she wants to smack the proud smirk off his face. Brienne pushes herself off of his chest and stands, reaching a hand down to help Jaime up. 

When he’s on his feet again, he touches Brienne’s shoulder. “If I come back to King’s Landing, will you hang out with me?” 

“Of course I would.” 

He tilts his head, eyes sad. “You never did before.” 

She wants to shove another snowball down his shirt, he’s being so sensitive. Brienne is so accustomed to him swaggering around camp, around campus, she sometimes forgets there is a sweeter side to him. “You never asked.” 

Jaime bites his lip. “I wanted to. I was too much of a wimp. I like spending time with you, Brienne.” He’s looking at her that way again and he reaches up to brush his hand through her hair. Her heart leaps into her throat, but then she realizes he was only brushing away the snow. 

“Then we should hang out more,” she smiles, trying to ignore the heat of desire awakening in her stomach. “And hey,” she says softly. “You pulled this off.” The two of them take in the kids running rampant, counselors jumping into the fray, the string of snowball fights breaking out, laughter ringing through the trees.


	3. Nutcracker

Brienne is in a meeting when she sees her phone light up and Jaime's picture come up on the screen. She excuses herself to take the call. “Jaime? Is everything alright?” Since he’s taken leave to spend more time with Jo, he rarely calls her at work, instead texting her cute updates of their day or sweet messages to let her know he’s thinking about her. 

“Jo had a bit of an accident. She’s fine,” Jaime’s voice wavers, like he might not be fine. “But we’re at the hospital. She broke her leg.”

“I’ll be right there. I love you.”

“Drive safe,” Jaime practically yells before she hangs up the phone and hurries out of the office. She’ll send a text to her boss once she gets to the hospital. Even in the midst of her panic, Brienne doesn’t doubt Joanna will be fine. It’s more Jaime she’s worried about. This was the same man who couldn’t stop crying when he held their daughter in his arms for the first time. 

_ She has your eyes, Jaime.  _

_ She’s going to be strong like her mom, though. I can tell.  _

Jaime texts her what wing they’re in and Brienne weaves her way through the maze of hospital corridors before she finally spots him standing in the doorway of a room, wearing a dark wine colored sweater and jeans, his hair askew from where he’s repeatedly pushed it back from his forehead, a little cowlick standing up near the back. When she’s mere steps away, he turns and sees her, embracing her in the longest hug. “Thank gods.” 

“What happened?” 

“Mommy!” Jo waves at her from inside the room, where a nurse is checking her blood pressure. 

Jaime’s hand on her back as she walks into the room. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” 

“Much better now. They gave me a cherry lollipop!” She exclaims, delighted. 

“Pain meds,” the nurse whispers, giving Brienne a knowing wink. 

“Did you see my cast?” Joanna points to the purple cast on her leg just below the knee. 

“I do see that. Can you tell me what happened?” 

“I was practicing,” she says seriously. “For The Nutcracker.” Jaime took Joanna to ballet lessons every week, but he hadn’t said anything about their daughter’s class performing in The Nutcracker. Brienne glances over at her husband, who looks as baffled as she feels. 

She doesn’t see the harm in Joanna working towards a goal. “You were practicing for The Nutcracker and then what happened?”

Her daughter shrugs. “I don’t know. I got tangled up and I fell.” Joanna glances between her parents, trying to stifle a yawn. “I wanted to be a sugar plum,” her voice goes soft and quiet. 

“You’d be the best sugar plum,” Jaime chuckles, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. “Next year.” He promises. 


	4. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already fallen behind on the advent calendar. The prompt for the 4th was cranberry, so I will go back and write that one eventually, but the prompt for today, the 5th, is fire.
> 
> This is show verse, which I've stayed away from since May, but I couldn't resist this idea. I wanted it to be longer, so maybe at some point I will expand it as a standalone one shot.

Brienne blinks awake, only to see the fire nearly burned down to ash, surprised the chill of the room hasn’t woken her. As she begins to drag herself out from under the furs, another source of heat provides the answer. The weight of Jaime traps her from extracting herself from the bed. Somehow he has rolled himself in the bed linen and stolen half her furs in the night. Despite his distaste for the North, for its climate, now he is the warmest thing in her sphere. 

He once was the sun. She’d seen glimpses of that man. Shining and golden. A smart swordsman, cleverer still by his tongue, his wit. 

_ I’m not the fighter I used to be. _ But he was. He fought for her, even when she had not asked him. He provided her the things she needed in order to find Sansa, to travel North, to build a life for herself here. He would be the last to admit it, but he fought for himself, too. He clawed his way out of King’s Landing, away from his sister’s poisonous embrace, to come here, knowing what he would face, willing to risk his own life to do the right thing. 

She had grown to admire him, respect him. Not despite his complexities, but because of them. She loved him. It had been burning deep inside her for a long time, she knew now. There were long, dark moments where she did not know whether she would ever see him again, but every time she did, there was a spark, a refueling, an awareness resurfaced.

When she found out he was here, in Winterfell, the flames were fanned by every word, every glance which passed between them. His actions brought her to full conflagration, so bright she could not contain it. There was a familiarity in his gaze, a blazing heat she recognized, which cautiously mirrored her own. Until last night, when he had shown up at her door. They certainly had not been cautious then. They gave themselves to each other in equal fervor and earnestness.

And yet there was something in her which held back, who expected Jaime to stir beside her, his gaze distant. To declare in a flat, unforgiving tone that Winterfell was not his home, would never be his home, even with her. 

She begins shivering as soon as her feet hit the floor, teeth chattering as she tries to desperately stoke the fire back to life. When the flames begin to lick at the wood again, climbing ever higher, she slips back to bed, pausing in her movements when Jaime murmurs in his sleep. As she is settling next to him, eager to warm herself under the furs, there is a sudden wall of heat against her back, Jaime’s limbs tangling with hers. His left hand covers hers and holds them both tightly to her chest, his fingers smoothing across hers, trying to warm her. “Thank you,” she whispers. 

His nose nuzzles into her neck and her name a breath in her ear, “Brienne.” Neither of them say anymore, but stay wrapped in each other, even once the fire has warmed the room.


	5. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sleepless in Seattle AU no one asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the dialogue is taken directly from the film, so thank you, Nora Ephron. Her movies are the ultimate comfort food for me and I cherish them.

“We’re engaged!” Hyle announces so abruptly during Sevenmas Eve dinner, Brienne nearly chokes on her ham. 

The table explodes. It is precisely the kind of attention Brienne does not like, but Hyle basks in. She is mildly swayed by the delight on everyone’s faces as they congratulate them. Hyle’s family has always been very welcoming towards her and although it will never be the familial comfort of her brother, Galladon, or the quiet love she and her father share, it is heartwarming to feel so embraced and adored by your significant other’s family. 

After dinner, Hyle’s mom, sister, and aunt usher her away from everyone else, wanting to know if she has started thinking about venues, dresses, or flowers. It occurs to her then, she truly is the most unlikely person to get married simply because she doesn’t care about any of the details. She simply wants to live a life with someone she cares about and who cares for her. It’s something she never thought she would find and she is grateful everyday to find someone as solid and steady as Hyle. 

Brienne says goodbye to him outside the house, feeling as if his whole family has their noses pushed up against the glass watching. She is driving to the ferry in order to be able to spend Sevenmas morning with her father while Hyle plans to join them later in the day. 

The night is very still. She flips on the radio for noise, for company, switching through several stations of Sevenmas songs. One seems to be playing them backwards, so she switches quickly to the next station, and hears a woman’s soothing voice, one which instantly reminds her of her mother’s. 

However, this woman seems to be doling out unwarranted advice. Brienne doubts she has any credentials for this type of work. It’s mindless noise until she reaches the ferry, she tells herself. Better than those inane Sevenmas songs.

“Our next caller,” the woman’s voice soothes, “is Sleepless on Sevenmas. Hello?” 

“Hello?” A male voice replies. “Who is this?” he asks suspiciously. 

“This is Melisandre of Asshai and you’re on Network Westerosi.” 

“Oh, really? What are you selling tonight? Those replica swords? I already have several in my office.” The fact that the man doesn’t seem to know what he’s gotten roped into makes Brienne feel sorry for him and she nearly switches off the radio in second hand embarrassment, but his jape about the replica swords makes her laugh. She knows exactly the ones she means. Hyle gave her one, The Just Maiden, for her name day last year because she was a distant descendant of Ser Galladon.

“No, I’m not selling anything. I just want to help. I want you to know that your nephew called and asked for some advice on how you might find a new wife.” 

“Tyrion, if this is a prank, you’ve outdone yourself,” the man drawls, sarcasm dripping. Brienne wonders if he’s drunk. “This is quite extravagant. Now, who is this?” 

“Melisandre of Asshai with Network Westerosi,” the woman replies firmly. “You are on the air.” 

There’s a long pause and the man directs the question to someone, “You called the radio station?” 

“Are you with me, Sleepless on Sevenmas?” 

“Jaime. My name’s Jaime,” he practically growls. 

“Jaime,” she repeats softly. “Your nephew feels that since your wife’s death you’ve been very, very unhappy and he’s genuinely worried about you.” Brienne can tell Melisandre is genuinely concerned, even if her advice may do little to staunch the man’s broken heart.

“Get out here. Get out here. Come on now, I’m not going to go through this alone.” She can imagine the man gesturing to his nephew, who can’t be more than 8 or 9, to come sit with him on the couch. She wonders if their home is decorated, if there are carefully wrapped presents waiting for tomorrow, if there is family invited to celebrate with them. 

“I think it’s very hard for him to talk to you about all this, and I thought maybe if you and I could talk, it would make Tommen feel a little better. Jaime?”

“Talk to her. She’s a priestess,” the little boy says softly and Brienne’s heart nearly breaks. 

“A priestess of what? Her first name could be priestess,” the man jokes and Brienne recognizes it immediately as a way to deflect attention, to avoid talking about the hurt he carries inside. She keeps hers carefully hidden away, too. 

“Melisandre will be fine.” The woman’s voice can cut through bullshit one moment and yet is gentle and understanding the next. “Jaime, it’s Tommen’s Sevenmas wish.”

“Fine.” The man sighs, resigned.

“Okay, good. Now, I know this is difficult but how long ago did your wife die?”

The brittle sarcasm drops out of Jaime’s voice. “About a year and a half ago.” 

“Okay. Have you had any relationships since?” Her voice remains delicate, soothing, trying not to scare a frightened animal 

“Uh, no,” he scoffs, as if the idea was ridiculous. 

“No? Why not?”

“Melisandre, I don’t mean to be rude…” Brienne can hear the wariness in his voice again. 

“Oh, and I don’t want to invade your privacy,” the woman tries. 

Now it’s Brienne’s turn to scoff, rolling her eyes. “Sure you do,” she says aloud, just as the stranger on the radio says the same. “Sure you do.” Surprised they share a sense of skepticism, it draws a smile across her face.

Melisandre is not so easily defeated, because she continues on, pressing him gently. “Go on, Jaime. I’m listening.” 

Jaime sighs. “We had a pretty tough time there at first. But, we’re dealing with it. Tommen and I will get along just fine again, as soon as I break his phone.” 

The woman laughs. Brienne is smiling. Underneath his cynicism, there is kindness and gentleness towards his nephew. She recognizes Jaime without even knowing him. 

“I have no doubt that you’re a wonderful uncle to Tommen.” 

“I’m his guardian. He lives with me and we try to take care of each other, don’t we?” 

“Yes,” Tommen replies in his sweet little voice. 

“That’s wonderful. But something must be missing if he still feels you are under a cloud,” Melisandre suggests and Brienne finds herself waiting anxiously for Jaime’s reply. When there isn’t one, she continues on. “Okay, just a few questions. Are you sleeping at night?” 

“He doesn’t sleep at all,” his nephew answers for him. 

“How do you know that?” 

“I live here.” 

“Look. It’s Sevenmas. Uh, Ellie, my wife, she really did it. I mean, she loved, uh…She made everything beautiful.” Quiet falls over the line. Everyone waits for him to speak. The heartbreak in his voice is palpable and Brienne finds tears in the corners of her eyes. She wipes them away, her mind traveling to her mother’s death, the darkness which settled over her father’s face and has never really left him. “It’s tough this time of year. Tommen misses his mother. I miss…” he trails off, unable to finish. 

“Could it be you need someone just as much as Tommen does?” 

The silence lays across the airwaves, across the miles between Brienne and wherever Jaime is, and she whispers into the darkness, “Yes.” 

Melisandre tells him not to answer and they need to take a break. As soon as the sponsored ads begin, it jolts Brienne out of her reverie, the sounds of other cars passing by, the noise of the highway. She shakes her head. She must be more tired than she thought and pulls over to get some coffee. 

“I bet he’s tall and has a cute butt,” one of the waitresses in the diner says to the other as Brienne steps inside. 

“I bet he hasn’t bathed in weeks and he stinks,” the other replies in a thick Dornish accent. 

“Shut up.” The first one glances up to see Brienne. “Hi. Can I help you?” 

“A coffee black, please.” 

“No problem, lovely.” She winks at her and turns to grab the coffee pot. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t kick this guy out of bed for eating crackers, you know what I mean?” the woman continues to her friend. Brienne frowns, unsure who they could be speaking about, as the diner is nearly empty. 

But then she hears the radio is turned down low. They were listening to Sleepless in Sevenmas too. Whatever connection she felt moments ago in her car is less special than she imagined and Brienne feels silly for thinking it at all. She has someone. She shouldn’t be lusting after some random man on the radio. 

“It’s not like this guy is much of a secret as they want to make us believe,” the woman with the thick accent speaks up. “Ellie? Come on. That has to be Elia Martell. He’s a rich asshole who would have no interest in any of us. It’s probably why he hasn’t found a new wife yet. So I wouldn’t feel too sorry for him.” 

She opens her mouth to defend Jaime, but none of them really know him. His image is softened by his nephew, a dead wife, and a broken heart, but the waitress is probably right. He could be a jerk. Someone not deserving of their affections. Especially not when she has a good man like Hyle, someone she never thought would take any interest in her, but now wants to spend the rest of his life with her. 

_And yet._

She keeps listening. “If there is one question I could ask you,” Melisandre prompts. 

“Oh, go ahead.” Despite what she realized in the diner, she feels drawn to him, to his voice.

“People who truly loved once are far more likely to love again. Jaime, do you think that there is someone out there you could love as much as your wife?” 

“Well. That’s hard to imagine.” He takes a long breath. “But maybe. One day.” 


	6. Ice Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish I had more time to delve into all of these universes. For now, have a little drabble.

**Principal Tarth/Coach Lannister AU**

Class got out hours ago, but Brienne has lost all track of time, buried as she is in budget reports and a year end list that grows longer by the minute. 

Jaime Lannister appears in her office doorway and sinks down on her couch in the corner. “Yes?” she barely glances up from her work, only eyes him briefly over the top of her glasses. 

He’s dressed in a red polo shirt which displays his tanned, toned arms. His khakis are somehow tight enough to show off the sculpted muscle of his thighs. Jaime smooths his palms along the knee of his pants, glancing up at her, trepidation on his face. “Have you looked at the weather?” 

“Does it look like I have time to be concerned about the weather?” she snaps, gesturing to the pile of papers on her desk. “It’s been summer for nine years, what could possibly be different?” 

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I know, I know, but.” The corners of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. Gods, he drives her crazy. Jaime has been smug since their first meeting, but even more self-satisfied since they shared a drunken kiss when she was still vice principal. Her professionalism discarded for a moment of fleeting lust. 

Brienne’s hated herself for it ever since and keeps her distance from Coach Lannister if at all possible, but somehow it encourages him all the more, popping up whenever she least expects it, making himself comfortable in her life, even though she has no desire for him to be a part of it. “Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to guess?” she asks impatiently.

“They’re predicting an ice storm for Friday.” 

She was not going to be tricked so easily. “This isn’t the best time for a jape, so if you only came by to tease me-” 

“I wouldn’t do that.” 

“Gods, Ja– _Coach Lannister_ , it can’t. We have the…” She rests her elbows on her desk, her head buried in her hands. 

“The charity tournament, I know.” His voice dips low and gentle and despite her irritation, his tone makes her skin prickle with a familiar heat. 

Brienne raises her head, not wanting him to see her defeated, to see how the pressure of the job is getting to her. She straightens her button up shirt, her blazer flung over the back of her chair hours before. “I don’t want to cancel it preemptively and then nothing happens, but we can’t have teams traveling from all over if there _is_ a storm.” 

“I can take care of it. I’m happy to handle all of it. I know you have a lot on your plate.” His eyes are soft. Or as soft as they can be, their bright green boring into her, knowing he is capable of making her drop her guard. 

“Would you?” her voice is barely more than a whisper. “That would be great.” 

“Of course,” he smiles easily. “I know you want to keep your distance for professional reasons,” he emphasizes, leaning forward on the couch, “but I want you to know I’m here to help. In whatever way you need.” Before she can muster a response, he stands, giving her a small nod. “Don’t stay too late, Principal Tarth.” 

“I–I won’t,” she replies, flustered by his offer. “Just gonna finish this and then I’ll head home.” 

“Have a good night,” he says from her doorway, flashing her one last smile before he goes.


	7. Turkey Curry Buffet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very, very loose adaptation of Bridget Jones' Diary. You don't need to know the movie to enjoy it, though.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” 

She recognizes him not from when they used to play together in Evenfall’s backyard, but from all the pictures in the papers. Jaime Lannister. The handsome looks, wavy blond hair, and piercing green eyes. The only difference is his face has matured a little and quite unfairly, make him look all the better. And if Brienne  _ did _ have any doubt, he is wearing a rather garish gold and crimson jumper. Lannister colors. 

His eyes travel up and down her body in a quick once over. When his gaze settled on her face, there’s a flicker of recognition, but he shakes his head. “No, can’t say I do. And I would remember you.” 

It’s a comment on her appearance without being an insult, but she grimaces anyway. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m a friend of the Starks.” 

“A friend?” Catelyn has never held much fondness for Tywin or his brood, but Brienne assumes Jaime garnered an invitation in an effort to be civil and welcoming, even to the Starks’ competitors. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. 

Several years prior, Tywin handed over the reins to his son, the man who stood before her, but rumor said it was the younger son who kept the ship afloat, while Jaime was simply the pretty face. 

“Am I an enemy to you then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t even know you.” 

“We knew each other when we were little.” She tries to push past him in an attempt to get to the side of the table he’s blocking, but he snaps his fingers in recognition, blocking her path. 

“Oh, I know.  _ Brienne Tarth _ . You always could keep up with the boys.” 

Her mouth falls open. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He at least has the courtesy to look embarrassed. “I just meant…” he stumbles over his words. “You were always willing to go on adventures with Addam and I. Not like my sister.”

She clears her throat. “Yes, well.” 

He eyes her half empty plate. “Do you have a drink? You want something?” 

“No, thank you.” 

“Oh, come on. It’s the holidays. A little champagne, at least?” 

“I really can’t. I, uh-”

“You have stunning eyes,” Jaime blurts out. 

The last thing she expects is a compliment from this man’s lips. Her face blooms with blush and although she can barely tear her eyes away from his, she glances down at her plate, hoping to quell the feelings stirring in her gut. A large hand lands on her shoulder, making her look up into the smiling face of her father, who towers over her at almost seven feet. 

“Hi, darling. I see you two have found each other.” 

Jaime flashes a quick smile at Selwyn. “Yes, it’s good to catch up.” But Brienne notes the unease in her father’s face. 

“You know Brienne has done quite well for herself.” 

She puts a hand on her father’s arm, nearly begging him not to continue. “He doesn’t want to hear.” 

“Would you rather me tell the story about the time you ran round naked in his pool?” 

Brienne nearly chokes. “Dad!” She can feel the burn of Jaime’s gaze on her and when she glances over, he’s trying to suppress a smirk. “Okay, off with you now.” She gives her father a playful shove, his laugh echoing across the room as he leaves them be. 

“That’s your dad?”

“Yes, and if you make a comment about how I clearly got my looks or stature or body from him, I’ll whack you with…” Her eyes scan the table, searching for a weapon, but the only thing which might do the job is the spoon in her hand. “This ladle.” 

“Over the turkey curry buffet? How cheeky.” He raises an eyebrow at her and damn, his eyes are as gorgeous as the rest of him. 

“Piss off.” 

His mouth falls open in feigned shock. “For the love of the Seven. You have quite a mouth. Did you pick it up working for the Starks?” 

“I don’t work for the Starks.” 

“Oh, really? What do you do then?” 

“I’m a defender for Winterfell.” 

“Ah, you learned it on the soccer pitch. Should have known.” If she remembers correctly, Jaime played soccer in school. She wonders why he didn’t go pro. Family obligation, perhaps? “That’s quite impressive. We should celebrate your success. Champagne?” 

“Thank you, but-” It’s too late for her objections, as Jaime spots a waiter circulating with full glasses and snatches them two flutes. But now she has a plate full of food and no way to eat it since her other hand is full. 

“Come, come, sit.” His hand lightly lands on her wrist, Brienne tryng to ignore the sparks she feels from his touch. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks suspiciously as she takes a seat. “Shouldn’t you be circulating the party, glad handing all your business associates? Trying to make Ned Stark jealous?” 

Jaime lets out a surprised laugh. “You’re very astute, Brienne Tarth.” He takes a sip of champagne as she tries to shovel down the turkey curry as gracefully as she can. “Believe it or not, Catelyn Stark does not invite me to keep me in her good graces. It’s because she feels sorry for me.” 

It’s laughable that anyone would feel sorry for Jaime Lannister. He is no doubt one of the richest men in Westeros. He can solve any problem by throwing money at it. Jaime is heartbreakingly handsome and despite her better judgement, Brienne finds him oddly charming. She chews and takes a sip of champagne to wash it down. “Why?” 

A shadow crosses his face. “Because,” he replies, clearing his throat. “I’m divorced.” 

“Oh.” Brienne isn’t sure what to say. “Recently?” 

“No,” he admits. “But a painful one.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says automatically, before realizing she really does feel sympathy for him. She places her hand at his wrist, squeezes it quickly. “I am.” 

“Thank you.” He gives her a grateful smile, perhaps because she hasn’t treated him as a pariah. Jaime drains the rest of his flute and cuts a look towards her, eyes flashing. “Now what’s this about you running round naked in my pool?” 


End file.
